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(Headline Missing)
February 13, 1986

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pix # 1 - Alvira Williams

pix # 2 - Isaac Newton Wyant

pix # 3 - Charity (McDougle) Wyant

pix # 4 - Mr. and Mrs. Willis Wyant

Several years ago, a Potluck article divulged how McDougal
Street got its name from a pioneer family who settled in Seneca County.
I discovered, later, that the street name on the sign was not spelled
the same as the family after whom named "McDougle."

When Mr. and Mrs. Willis Wyant were packing to move
to California in 1985, I was at their home on West South Street and
inquired about the two ancestral photos on the wall waiting to be
packed.

GRANDPARENTS OF WILLIS WYANT

Those photos, used with today's article, are the grandparents
of Willis Wyant. Charity Jane McDougle married Isaac Newton Wyant
and from that union came Willis, a grandson.

Some of that family are buried at Fountain Cemetery,
but Isaac and his wife Sarah Jane are buried in Liberty Cemetery as
will Willis and his wife, where a marker is already placed.

Isaac Newton Wyant was born Nov. 28, 1827, in Mifflin
County, Pa., son of George and Barbara (Snook) Wyant. He died Jan.
14, 1870, in Jackson Township, near Amsden, where he was a farmer.

Charity Jane McDougle was born April 21, 1830, in Culpeper
County, Va., Benjamin and Nancy (Updike) McDougle. She died June 26,
1873.

MAKING FRIENDS IN CALIFORNIA

The Wyants moved to Tustin, Calif., to be close to their
daughter, their only child. From correspondence I know that Willis,
especially, misses his many Fostoria and area friends, but he is a
good mixer and is making new friends there, especially in the circles
of people who are interested in genealogy and history.

Willis' last letter revealed that he was chairman of
a table of people from Ohio living in Orange County, who attended
a genealogical meeting, the subject being Ohio.

On Jan. 25, Willis was a speaker at the Southern California
Chapter at the Ohio Genealogical Society, his subject being "Climbing
The Buckeye Tree."

The one thing the Wyants miss greatly is the regular
arrival of The Review Times. Willis says delivery service through
the postal service is poor.

The Wyant's address is 14400 Newport Ave., Apt. 17,
Tustin, Calif. 92680. I know they will be glad to hear from old friends
in this area.

READER FEEDBACK ANNIVERSARY EDITION

REVIVES MEMORIES

A letter from former Fostorian Alvira Williams, about
The Review Times special edition, was surely welcomed...and brought
back many memories for me too, since she grew up in the same part
of Fostoria I did...the east end, close to the railroads.

Whether readers knew Alvira or not, I believe you will
enjoy her memories.

"Dear Friends (of long standing), Helen Roby Williams
just sent me the Anniversary Edition of The Review Times. She and
I were very close childhood friends. Then time and separation kept
us apart and we just lost track of each other. Then when you wrote
about Sandusky Street she got my address and wrote me. Later came
to see me. What a wonderful time we had talking together. Thanks to
you.

"And this paper...how many memories it brings to mind.
I remember when the soldiers came through on the Lake Erie railroad...then
it ran down Sandusky Street. Sometimes there would be a train on the
Hocking Valley and they would have to stop. The soldiers would have
to pile out and pick roses from our house and Aunt Mary Stahl's who
lived beside us.

"THE LAST ROSES THEY EVER SAW?"

"I suppose those roses were the last some of them ever
saw. Mother and aunt Mary took to keeping doughnuts and cookies to
give the soldiers. Some of the soldiers would put me on their shoulders
and make a fuss over me. I suppose I reminded them of little sisters
they had left at home. We had sons, brothers, fathers, nephews in
all the wars, but thanks be to God that they all came home.

"Christmas was very special and happy for me. Then came
my birthday and it was made special by my great niece and her husband
and kids. So it was a joyful day in spite of being an oldster. Yes,
I'm 78, but really don't feel it.

THEY TELL ME I'M GROWING OLD

"They tell me I'm growing old, I tell you that's not
so. The "House" I live in is worn out, and that of course I know.

"It's been in use a long, long time. It's a weathered
many a gale. I'm not surprised they think it is getting rather frail.

"The color changing on the roof. The windows getting
dim. The walls a bit transparent and looking rather thin.

"The foundation not so steady as once it use to be.
My "House" is getting shakey. But my "House: isn't me.

"My few short years can't make me old. I feel I'm in
my youth. Eternity lies just ahead. A life of joy and truth.

"I'm going to live forever there. Life will go on...it's
grand. They tell me I am growing old. They just don't understand.

"The dweller in my little house is young and bright
and gay. Just starting on a life to last throughout eternity.

"They only see the outside, which is all most folks
see. They tell me I am growing old. They've mixed my "House" with
me!

"Yes, one day I'll meet everyone on the heavenly streets
and prove I'm not growing old...still young for all eternity."

(Author's Note: A most welcome letter and such beautiful
thoughts in the poem...God bless you. Alvira...and all the oldsters.
Her address is 230 N. Main St., Swanton, Ohio 43558.)

HEED GOD'S WORD

"For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus
for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk
in them." (Ephesians 2:10)

That short verse from HIS word should be enough to make
every reader of this column stop and consider if he or she is really
of HIS workmanship, and using endowed talents to further God's plan
for salvation.

Are you just a Christian in name, or one dedicated to
fill a particular place in God's plan?